


Wingless

by polluxcastor



Category: TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 20:21:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16772224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polluxcastor/pseuds/polluxcastor
Summary: Lord Phobos finds himself on Earth for the first time.





	Wingless

He couldn’t remember anything other than pain, a white hot searing pain on his back as he fell. All this over an idea. A suggestion so blasphemous that he was thrown out of his own home. They judged him. They maimed him and threw him out. He felt bitterness in his stomach. He didn’t even know how fast he was falling. He braced himself for impact.

Everything went black. 

When he came to, it was dark. He was laying on his back, eyes looking up at the stars. His head hurt. He couldn’t remember ever having a headache this bad. He pushed himself up. His legs were shaky, but they worked. He reached back over his head, touching his back. 

His wings. His beautiful, beautiful wings. Burned to a crisp. They hurt. They throbbed. It was almost as if he still felt them attached, giving them a weak flutter, only to wince in pain. He let his hand fall back to his side. His robes were dirty too. He turned to look what he had fallen into. 

His impact had created a decent sized crater in the ground. He did his best to brush off the dirt from his golden robes before he started off in a direction. He could see lights in one direction, but the rest was darkness. Empty, just like space. 

He walked for miles. The lights didn’t really seem to get any closer. His mind wandered back to home. The look on their faces. The scorn in their voices. He clenched his fist tightly against his side. How dare they, he thought, his eight eyes narrowing in disgust. They were trapped in their old ways, stuck in old customs that were getting them nowhere. 

A suggestion. It had just been a suggestion, but it came off so blasphemous that they cast him out. We don’t need free thinkers in our ranks like you, they had said, your ideals disgust us. They stripped him from his connection to them, cut off his wings; his only real connection to them anymore. His identity, gone. He had tumbled down to wherever this was. 

He was fuming. He walked with a little more purpose now. He knew they were still up there watching him. Waiting for him to fail. 

He wouldn’t fail, oh no. He wouldn’t fail. 

He was going to destroy everything he touched. 

The first being he came across was an old farmer. It must have been dawn by the time he finally reached him. The farmer was shocked by his appearance, as all creatures are at first. He didn’t stand a chance. With his strength he ripped the man limb from limb, opening his jagged mouth, screeching into his face as he watched him die. It was so easy. 

He didn’t even feel sorry devouring the evidence, blood running down his chin. 

Anyone that came into his path he devoured. Any building or structure he saw he destroyed. His blood was boiling. The sun rose. The heat from the sun re-awakened the burning sensation in his wings. This only fueled him to destroy more. 

By nightfall, an entire town had fallen under his hands, many dead, leaving a trail of destruction behind him. His hands and robes were bloodied, but he didn’t care. He wouldn’t rest until this entire planet had fallen. That would show them. 

Something flew by overhead. He looked up at it, eyes narrowing. It didn’t seem to be from this primitive planet. He watched as it flew in front of him, landing in an open field. The door opened and light poured out. A figure stepped out. 

“I’m afraid i’m going to have to ask you to stop.” The figure said, stepping closer. His eyes narrowed further, clenching his fists to his sides. The figure came even closer. 

He opened his mouth as wide as he could, screeching a reply. He lunged at the figure, hand raised to grab him by the head, eager to rip it clean from his shoulders as he had done to so many others. He was greeted with resistance. The being grabbed his hand, throwing him back. He skidded in the dirt, sliding back. The fallen one felt his anger only increase. He screeched again, his voice pained with anger and sorrow. He lunged at the figure again, hands only grasping at armor, strong hands pressing on his shoulders to keep him away. 

_ I WILL DEVOUR YOU!!!  _ His voice rang out like a thousand voices speaking in unison. The figure in front of him didn’t waver. It was like he had heard such things before. 

“I will not allow it.” He said, throwing the fallen one back to the dirt. This time it hurt. He landed on his back, crying out in pain. His vision went dark for a moment, seeing spots. He curled up on his side, blood dried hands grabbing his head, as if that’d make it any better. 

The figure crouched down near him. 

“You’re hurt….” He said, his voice full of concern, “What happened to you?”

_ I don't want to talk about it.  _ The fallen one replied, and the figure nodded. 

“My name is Doctor Sung. I came here to stop you, but I can see that you need help. I can help you, if you’ll let me.” He seemed genuine. He was the first one that didn’t scream as soon as he saw the fallen one. He was the first one that offered help. 

_ I’ll allow it.  _ He said, voice even softer this time. Sung smiled. 

“Good.” He stepped closer, gently helping the fallen one up. Once both were standing, he gestured to his ship. “Right this way.” Together they walked towards his ship. 

“What’s your name, anyway?” Sung asked, helping him along. The fallen one hadn’t realized how tired he was. He could barely stand. He thought about Sung’s question for a few moments before answering. 

_ My name is Lord Phobos. _

**Author's Note:**

> :3c let me know what you think


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